


The Man From The Future

by EvoraBlake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvoraBlake/pseuds/EvoraBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Hiatus* In the aftermath of the war, a young man from the future brings a message to warn his parents and their allies. Something dangerous wants to take advantage of the weakness the war has caused. Hermione will have to come to terms with who the father of her future child is because, to defeat this new enemy, they will need each other. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man From The Future

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

A steaming cup of proper English tea was a gift to be savored. However, sipping it in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, not staring at the spot two meters away where Remus’ dead body had lain, made tasting her cuppa a rather futile effort.

Much had been repaired in the ensuing weeks after the Final Battle but the aura of death was a lingering concern. Classes were indefinitely postponed as the school was closed for renovation. The castle itself was unusually full of magical folk, only some of whom were students. Some came to clear debris and rebuild the ancient walls while others offered their care to the dozens of injured who were of too low priority to be taken in at an overflowing St. Mungo’s.

Then there were those sad souls who lingered simply because there was no where else to go. A few had tried to live in the buildings that had been home before the attacks but the reality of returning without the loved ones you shared it with proved too painful for most. In the case of the Malfoys and Parkinsons, Voldemort had taken their ancestral manors by force and befouled them with dark rituals and cursed traps. Cleansing the dark magic festering there would have to wait for Ministry approval. In all likelihood, it would take the remaining Aurors and Curse-Breakers years before those manors would be deemed safe for habitation.

So it was that Hogwarts grew more full of witches and wizards than it had in nearly a century. Though everyone appeared either closed-off or haunted, and sobbing in the corridors was commonplace, it seemed habit brought them to gather in the Great Hall for meals.

It was there Hermione stood, holding her rapidly cooling mug of tea, and stared at the odd assortment of mismatched tables clustered throughout the room. She leaned against the wall and tried to convince her feet to move. She should join a table; communicate with someone other than Harry. She had realized that morning that she hadn’t spoken more than monosyllables to anyone else in more than a week. Pushing herself to engage with others, she decided, might keep her from spiralling further out of control.

A thin blonde man in a severe black suit drew her attention as he abruptly rose from a small table halfway across the hall. The youngest Malfoy moved with a surprising amount of care as he gently leaned back down to kiss his mother’s pale cheek. Hermione watched for a moment as he seemed to hesitate before slowly reaching a hand out to awkwardly pat his father’s shoulder. Lucius Malfoy didn’t appear to react though that was hardly unexpected. His dull gaze was locked somewhere in the distance while he continued to mindlessly nibble on a slice of toast. 

Draco let his hand fall to his side as he turned away from the table with a grim twist to his lips and trudged toward her. After a few steps, he seemed to gather himself and his stride settled into a confident saunter without missing a beat. 

Hermione stared shamelessly as she silently admired the duality. She had seen him not a moment ago filled with love and concern for his family, but now he projected authority, even if it was a bit ragged around the edges. Though weren’t they all rather frayed to the bone these days?

They locked gazes as he neared the tall double doors beside her and he slowed to narrow his eyes at her in suspicion. Her curiosity had gotten away from her and she must have been unnerving him with her unblinking stare. She flushed in embarrassment and glanced at the floor, but instead of laughing at her he came to a stop with his shoes just in her line of sight.

Finding him close enough to speak to, she looked into his icy silver eyes and bit her lip apprehensively. This was her chance to talk with someone. He had calmly walked himself right up to her; she could almost imagine he was a volunteer. He watched her patiently as if recognizing her struggle. She set down her tea and took a breath to say something, anything, when the heavy doors next to them were sucked shut with a bang.

Startled, she and more than half of the occupants jumped. Draco whirled around with his wand out, searching the room for danger. Her own wand was gripped steadily in her hand as wind swept through the hall, ruffling cloaks and picking up speed to whip violently about. The glass windows rattled and people scuttled to the edges of the room. With no more than a quick glance over his shoulder at her, Draco hurried back to join his parents. 

A vortex spiralled into existence and the power of it pushed the rickety tables and chairs away to clear a space in the center of the Great Hall. All around her, people threw up shields to protect themselves from the battering whirlwind. 

Hermione turned to the wooden doors and yanked. Loose curls streamed into her face as she pulled and the wind screaming in her ears drowned out everything else. The doors didn’t seem to be locked but air pressure was most likely holding them in place. Whatever was going on clearly wasn’t natural and, in the face of possible unknown danger, she took what she thought was the wisest course. The amorphous wisp of her patronus burst from her wand tip and dashed through the wall to warn Harry and the rest of the Order.

Spinning back around to face the vortex, Hermione saw that it had coalesced into something solid at the center. She conjured her own shield charm and tried to feed it enough power to spread across the terrified people nearest her as well. The gale buffeted furiously against her shield for several more moments while she panted breathlessly before it unexpectedly dropped off.

A young man stood where the vortex had been. Shocked silence filled the hall but nearly forty wands were trained on the intruder. He blinked rapidly then his pale eyes widened as he twisted to see the destruction strewn around him. He appeared sheepish at first but shrugged before searching through the faces in the room.

Augusta Longbottom took a brave step forward first and addressed the young wizard in an imperious tone. “Who are you and why have you come in such a thoughtless manner?” She glared and flapped her free hand to indicate the witches and wizards around her. “Someone could have been hurt, you fool!”

“My apologies Madam.” The man intoned graciously with a little bow of his head. “This was the only way available to get a message to you.”

Hermione squinted at him in confusion and dropped her shield to take a step forward as well. There was something about his wavy golden hair and the shape of his face that tickled the back of her mind. She had never seen him before but he looked so familiar despite that. His short locks were styled with a classic sort of flair that made his almost-curls look endearingly tousled. He was quite tall in the lithe way of swimmers or Quidditch Chasers and his simple trousers and dress shirt were fitted perfectly. 

Her next step forward caught his attention and he twitched then stared at her intently. She tilted her head slightly to the side in bemusement and he mirrored her as a delighted little smile grew on his face.

“Young man, I asked for your name.” Mrs Longbottom’s stern voice rang out.

“My mother can tell you my name.” He smirked and glanced around the hall again before settling his attention back on Hermione. 

“Boy, your impertinence knows no bounds!” Shouted Mrs Longbottom, beginning to march up to him to continue her interrogation.

Hermione quickly strode forward again and raised a hand, palm out, to the older witch who stumbled to a halt. People shifted uncomfortably at the awkward moment and began murmuring but she didn’t hear a word of it. She kept her scrutinizing gaze locked on the strange man and swallowed thickly as an idea came together in her mind. 

Tense, she cautiously came to stand an arm’s length away from him and could now see that he was only slightly younger than herself. She inspected his nearly ivory oval face and he grinned, showing a single dimple in his left cheek. She sucked in a soft gasp and her eyes raced over his face, cataloguing his features. Small button nose, strong jaw, dark gold curls - she took a small step closer and reached out to almost touch his chin where she could now see the barest shading of stubble but perfectly clear cheeks. Her father had always joked that, if he let it, his beard would only grow in to make him look like a Spanish conquistador with dimpled baby cheeks.

Shakily, she took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her chest. She had privately made a vow to herself when she had obliviated her parents that she would someday name her son after her father. This young man had said his mother would know his name.

“Liam?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper but the room had grown quiet enough that it fairly echoed.

“That’s my middle name,” He corrected with a cheeky smile. “I know you can figure out my first.” He dipped his chin and opened his eyes comically wide.

She frowned as she watched his silly expressions. The only way she would agree to let her son have a different first name was if his father had an equally good reason to name him something else. He winked one silvery grey eye at her then laughed out loud at her horrified expression as she realized who his father was.

Her jaw dropped as she watched him openly chuckle and she began to pick out the features he had gotten from Draco Malfoy. His height and body shape, his high cheekbones, his fine hair even if it had her curl, but it was the icy silver eyes from the Black family that reminded her of their family tradition to name children after celestial features. 

She hesitated for a moment while she quickly debated names to herself and found several she would tolerate but just one that looked like it fit his face and personality.

“Orion.”

He smiled happily down at her and nodded. “Hey, Mum.” He whispered back and winced a little as if unsure of her reaction. 

His eyes flicked over her shoulder suddenly and seemed to track something moving behind her. Whatever it was didn’t matter to her because she was seeing her own child for the first time and here he was, nearly a grown man. That hardly seemed fair.

Overwhelmed, Hermione touched his cheek in wonder. “Oh, my goodness.” Tears began to roll down her face unbidden.

“Don’t cry, Mum” Orion tried to console her, rubbing her arm. “I think this is bloody exciting.”

“Language, please.” The correction popped out without thought after spending so many years with two rowdy boys for friends.

“Sorry,” He immediately replied, then added slyly, “I get it from Dad and Uncle Harry, you know.”

It would seem she had a cheeky troublemaker for a son.

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and will surely be further edited as time goes on. I would be happy to hear any thoughts or constructive advice you have. Thank you for taking the time to read this.


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